November calls me by my name.

It snowed tonight, and though
we had plenty of warning,
I am still defenseless.

The cold startled all the warmth
I tried to create, no longer can I
walk barefoot, absent-minded.
Eventually, I will spiral like the
last snowflake falling into a
much desired spring.

Sleep now transports
me to desolate places;
everything empties itself
out at some point.
The trees barely changed skins
and now they are stripped raw,
their flesh exposed and I,
I cannot protect them.

I layer my heart,
take every precaution,
but I can't prolong the
numbness that comes with
trying to live in another dimension,
one that has chosen to forget me.
The flowers will call my name
no more.